


A Friend of the Family

by AwkwardDuckProducktions



Category: The Bastard Crew
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, I finally did it yall, I'M FREE, It's like a lasagna, Pan African aesthetics, The Big Pain, The struggles of immortality or just a very extended life, Yes this is the most I've written for anything, fucking 6.5k, hurt comfort and hurt again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 21:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20664164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardDuckProducktions/pseuds/AwkwardDuckProducktions
Summary: Time is hard when you're immortal. To think he almost missed his chance





	A Friend of the Family

One a far off planet in a small distant vector, there lived a family. They had lived there for many generations, all those who leave never stayed away for long, finding comfort in the farm they grew up in. It was a small and cozy farm, right next to the river too. A perfect place to raise a family way from the wear and tear of scary world out there. They didn't have many visitors, some try to buy the land, others were just passing through. Each one they would treat with a forceful kindness, making clear that they had no intention of leaving or letting them stay long.

That is until one very strange visitor.

Esam saw his arrival first. Like an excess orange drop of paint against the violet sky. His first thought was why on Shamba would the visitor walk, and where did they come from. But as the visitor got closer, his memory reminded him of the new set of investors that came by a couple weeks ago. If this was another agent, Esam saw no reason to alert the family and send that lonely agent back the way they came. True, he might get in trouble with Mother Bibi, but he knew that the agents stressed her out of her mind. The family was fine here, what they lacked in financial strength, they made up in love and the farm.

But still the stranger approached. Almost slower now than before, the distance they travelled Esam could have easily done in a third of the amount of time. And a half of an hour more, the stranger stopped. And the stranger just sat on the ground. And in about another fifteen minutes, the stranger fell back on the soft tall grass, completely hiding him from view. "Baba!" Esam got down from his perch. "Baba!"

"What, Esam?" His father shouted back from behind the barn.

"I'm going to check something!" And without waiting for a response, the boy ran.

In no time, the boy made it to where the stranger lied. Slowing his speed as he approached, Esam called out. "Hey! Are you okay?"

The stranger gave a thumbs up. Labored breathing was easily heard from the stranger's chest.

"Do you need a hand?" He walked over to the stranger's head, peering down at a man with hair like his.

"I'm... good." The man didn't opened his eyes when he responded.

"You look like shit." With that, the man opened his eyes in a slight glare.

"... Thanks." There was no gratitude in his voice. A silence fell between them as the man made no attempts in trying to get up and Esam made no attempt to try to help him up.

"Are you an agent?" He asked.

"No." The man replied closing his eyes once more.

"Then why are you here?" Esam sat next to him, it wasn't like they had many people to worry about coming so he reasoned he could take the time to interrogate this visitor. Being on the post was a boring tedious job.

"I heard that there was a woman who told stories." The man patted his bag twice blindly. "I collect stories." No one came for Mother Bibi's stories anymore. Not since Esam was a child. Her stories were for children anyways and the man looked much older than Esam. The left hand shot up from the man's side. "I'm Anansi."

"Esam." He shook the hand offered. The worn leather was warm in his hand. As soon as he let go, Anansi dropped his hand unceremoniously across his chest. "Are you sure you don't need help?" Before the man could respond, a booming voice shook Esam's core.

"Esam! What are you doing!" His father approached the two on the ground. "You know better than to just run off!"

"To be fair, sir," Anansi interrupted from the ground, "he was making sure I didn't need help. He's a good kid." His father's face changed once he realized where the voice came from in the grass. Esam decided that he liked Anansi, even if he was a secret agent trying to buy the farm. A well earned smug smile spread across his face as he watched the anger dissolved from his father.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"No worries." He stuck out his left hand again, this time in the direction of his father. "I'm Anansi."

"Aufom." He too shook the hand. "Anansi is an interesting name." The man had a private smile Esam knew it was bigger on the inside.

"And yours is very fitting as well." That caused his father to drop the hand offered. This time the limb landed on his stomach; a weak groan escaped his throat.

"What brings you here?" His father ever so soft with his guarded voice.

"I heard that there was a woman who told stories." The smile grew a bit more as the stranger looked at Aufom's face. "I collect stories." There was more conversation, but without any words. An exchange Esam didn't understand, but felt it was one of those "you'll get it when you're older" things.

"You should join us for supper tonight." His father offered a hand. Anansi's smile crumbled like the final moments of a centuries old statue finally giving way to time.

"I wouldn’t want to impose plus I was actually thinking about bedding down here for the night-" His words came fast and nervous until Aufom tilted his head and asked a simple heavy question in the middle of his rampage.

"You can't get up, can you?" The man looked away without saying a word. Neither he nor Esam were expecting that question. The three remained in silence as Anansi refused to answer. “No wonder you defend Esam, you act just like him.”

“Hey!” The two jumped to defend themselves, only to watch their argument shatter at the collision of their voices. The father laughed at their grumpy faces. “I can carry you.”

“Oh no, that-” Anansi tried to escape his fate. But his father just shook his head.

“Kid, Mother Bibi is nearly 100 and she would kick my ass if I just let someone sleep outside our farm.” His father knelt down on the other side of the stranger. In a low voice like a secret shared for longer than time, Esam watched his father tell the stranger, “especially someone so interested in her stories.” Anansi looked up at the sky with a sour expression, which Esam would have accepted that to be a  _ Don’t fucking pick me up _ . His father did not share the same understanding as with ease he picked up the stranger and slung him over his shoulder. There might have been a yelp in the process, but Esam wasn’t sure. Aufom grabbed the pack that laid beside them, stood to his full height and then turned to his son. “Go tell the others that we have a guest tonight.”

“You’re very tall, sir.” A panicked comment came from Anansi, hanging limp and displeased.

“And you’re very light.” He remarked with a laugh. "We will change that." Esam decided that the stranger was definitely not an agent as he ran off to go tell the others the news.

Morowa hated cooking. If she had her way, her brother and she would stick with either lookout or cooking. Lookout was a much better job, not having to worry about accidentally poisoning her entire family. Plus, he was the better cook. Everything tasted richer when he cooked. If she was a spiteful person, she would claim that he’s putting drugs in the food. But she’s not, so she just imagines what would happen if she were. There was also the fact that on lookout, she didn’t have to deal with Xoese. The babbling idiot in the corner of the room. True, they were only two years old, but Morowa couldn’t stand their constant need to make noise. Lookout was where she didn’t have to worry about any noises. She could watch the violet sky in silent awe for hours.

“Momo!” Her brother yanked her out of her daydream, much to her displeasure. “Where’s Mama?” He came bursting through the door, the stench of sweat clung heavily on him.

“Still out over by livestocks last time I heard.” She angrily stirred the potatoes in quiet sulking. “What’s got you all in a dash?”

“We’re having a guest for dinner.”  _ UGH _ .

“Is it another real estate agent?” She whined with a stomp of her feet. She was sick of all the agents. If she were a violent person, she would just shoot anyone that looked her way. But she was not, so she just imagined if she were.

“I don’t think so. He’s sick or something. Baba is carrying him.”  _ Well you don’t think to begin, _ she thought. What she actually said was:

“Well go tell Mama.” Xoese squealed with delight at the mention of their mother. She glared at the baby and stuck out her tongue, which only caused the baby to squeal even higher. It was a never-ending nightmare with this one. Esam gave a nod and rushed back out the door. And Morowa did what she could, make sure that the food doesn’t burn. She continued to stir the potatoes, her thoughts travelling further and further away.

they were in the middle of one of her favorite daydreams, the one where she’s a space pirate with a devilish grin and a laugh that struck fear into the hearts of all law enforcers, when her father came in through the door. And true to her brother’s words, he was actually carrying their guest. She just hadn’t expected him to carry him like a sack of rice over one shoulder. “Hey Momo,” he greeted all smiles and none of his usual worry, “I bring a guest for us!”  _ Unwillingly by the looks of it,  _ she thought. The guest’s left foot flexed in his boot in what Morowa could only assume to be in annoyance. “He came willingly.”

“I would have been fine-” The guest started what she could only assume was a weak argument before her father interrupted.

“I promise I didn’t just kidnap someone.”  _ Exactly what a kidnapper would say, _ she thought smugly.

“If you have to promise that you  _ didn’t _ kidnap the person you have thrown over your shoulder,” the guest piped up as her father crossed the room over to the sitting area, “it  _ kinda _ sounds like you absolutely did kidnap the person _ OOF! _ ” Her father threw him on the couch as gently as he could. Now that she could get a good look at him, she decided that she hated his shirt. It was too bright, bright orange contrasted with bright purple and bright green. It was just too  _ fucking  _ bright. He also got a good look at her as well. “I can promise he didn’t kidnap me. Hello, I’m Anansi.” He gave a small wave. She returned the gesture and went back to her potatoes.

“She isn’t much of a talker.” Her father clarified, only for the parasite in the corner to squeal again. “That one is.”

“They're precious.”  _ Don’t encourage them _ , she warned him in her thoughts. She just stirred her potatoes instead. Xoese gave a giggle in response. “Oh, they know.” Morowa decided she did not like the guest. He was probably a mind reader and he was going to spill all her thoughts that she held behind her bitten tongue.

“Yes, they know.” Morowa rolled her eyes at her father’s agreement, still focused on the potatoes. “I’m going to get everyone gathered for supper.” And with that, she was left with the guest and the bug in the corner.

She dove back into her daydreams, her crew had just taken over a space train, when from far deep in her memories, she remembered where she heard that name before. Morowa stole another glance from over her shoulder at the guest, who seemed occupied in struggling with opening his pack with only his left hand. And he did only have one left hand, so she doubted he was an actual spider. Unless he was hiding his extra limbs. She turned her back more. And waited. She was patience, and she would notice the sound of limbs growing. Instead after what felt like forever, she heard him curse under his breath as his pack fell to the floor. There wasn’t an excessive clatter so she assumed that he was unsuccessful in trying to open his pack. There was the horrible sound of metal buckles against wood; her entire body seized up. “Oh sorry.” Morowa turned around to the guest with a terrified confusion. “The sound, it’s awful. I get it.” Her eyes narrowed at him, thinking about all the ways she could murder him so if he was reading her mind, he got the bloody picture. “The sound of metal plates clattering against metal has the same effect on me.” He gave her a smile. She gave him nothing in return. “There’s actually some theories on why in some people-”

“-Are you a spider?” She gave in to her own curiosity. It took a moment but his smile spread like butter on toast.

“You don’t know how much it is a relief to be around people who actually get that.”  _ That didn’t answer my question, _ she silently thought. Before she had a chance to respond, he continued, “Which doesn’t answer your question, which is no. I’m not a spider. I do however, collect stories.”  _ Ah... a nerd.  _ “And I heard that there was a woman who loved to tell stories.”

“Mother Bibi doesn’t tell stories anymore.” She stated coolly, maybe in hopes to scare him off. And it was true, Mother Bibi hasn't told one of her stories in a long time. Talking wasn't one of her strong suits these days.

"Do you tell her stories?" The guest asked. "Or do you have your own?" His gentle smile of pure curiosity angered her. She focused all her thoughts of dropping him off the very high cliff on the edge of the farm. She wasn't a violent person, but the guest deserved it. "One day, I would like to hear yours." Nothing but earnest honesty in his voice. That somehow smoothed the whirling hatred in her heart for the guest. He turned his attention to his pack and she turned back to her potatoes, not needing to say another word.

The first thing that Mother Bibi noticed of her guest was that his hair was  _ fucking atrocious _ . Whoever let their child go around with hair drier than summer was cruel. If her fingers hadn't lost most their dexterity, she would make him sit on the floor in front of her and make everyone wait for supper while she tried to salvage his hair. She might make Rehema try. But after supper. Until she managed to pull her eyes away and noticed his shirt. His long sleeves decorated in shapes and lines familiar to her like finding a piece of home in a strange new place. He offered his left hand and a smile when he introduced himself as Anansi, the right remained bent and almost unnervingly crooked where one's mind ached at the sight of its stillness for so long. However it didn't seem to bother him, only when gazes drifted past did he show any worry. Before she was able to deduce any more from the young man, the family came pouring in.

Many lived on the farm, and with how big the farm is means no one is without a job. The family was spread across acres yet they still found a way each week to meet together for a meal. Mother Bibi's own children shared laughter with their spouses. Her grandchildren shared shoves among themselves. And even though her own partner and siblings had passed, in this moment of community they never felt far. Mother Bibi's guest, however, was an eternity away. Once everyone was settled into their cliques, she turned her attention back to the man on the couch. Who currently struggled keeping his plate still on his lap as he tried to eat. After a couple of bites, he set his plate to the side in resignation. She didn't fault him, Momo was not a cook and her potatoes were always somehow both raw and overdone. Yet she noticed he still refused to use his right arm, bent in a cruel fashion. Sat so still and small, she could see just how young he was truly. Lost in the universe, cursed to be on the outer rims, never a part of something real...

Not if Mother Bibi had anything to say about it.

~~***~~***~~

The months the visitor stayed unfortunately have slipped from the storyteller's mind. He doesn't remember befriending the children, the hand of Aufom on his shoulder as he tried to escape supper, the conversations with Rehema by the lake, learning of Morowa's secret tales of adventure. He could only remember three things. Mother Bibi's stories, not a worry in sight of him forgetting those. A crime he committed, unknowing that the family he loved had already forgiven him. And a promise he refused to break.

~~***~~***~~

It took him over eighty years for him to keep that promise.

And the story started as it once did, a boy up on the post bored out of his mind. But in the distance, he sees a stranger. Like a misplaced pixel against the violet sky. He calls to a parent before running. And the pixel became a person and the person became a man with hair like his. Aufom, now nearly a whole thirteen years old asks what the stranger is doing here. "I made a promise to visit."

The stranger this time, much to his joy, is lead by a concerned parent and a proud child having a job done well. He protected their farm and business. The parent was a little less joyful as doubt took hold. A man this young shouldn't know Momma Bibi and Amu Babu. They haven't been making sense for longer than this man had been alive. But the guest insists. "I collect stories."

"Ah," Neema remarked as her grip tightened around her son's hand, "you're a fan of Momma Bibi's books."

"I thought it was Mother Bibi." The stranger asked with what appeared to be genuine confusion.

"Sorry, it's what we call her."  _ It's not like she's going to respond anyways,  _ Neema's thoughts said with the dryness of her appreciation of her fans coming to the farm. "She's in that house." Is what she actually said, pointing to the one to the far right painted in colors all so bright. Fear took hold of his movements as the last night back at the farm so long ago came to the forefront of his memories. The stench of blood filled his nose. 

"Are you okay, Mister?" Little Aufom asked around his mother.

"Yeah..." Deep breaths just as he had practiced. No more hiding from memories that won't leave him. "Just brings me back." The farm had grown. What used to be a sizable portion of the land, the farm spread deep into the horizon. Painted houses of different patterns as far as he could see scattered among the plots. "It's definitely has changed." The guest took notice of the bright blue lights around the parameters. "Better security too."

"People still try to buy this farm and Momma Bibi decided extra measures were needed." An old spiel Neema was so used to giving.

"Momo thought the same way." Little Aufom and Neema both stared in appalled disbelief at the stranger. Off in his own little world, he paid them no mind as they made their way inside.

And the story starts again the same way, the stranger of the three elders led inside by the grown child and their own child. "Who's this?" Anansi was pulled from his thoughts when the tall mountain of a person from the corner came into view.

"Some fan-"

"-I'm Anansi." He stuck out his left hand in offering. "Made a promise to visit some old friends." The tall guard made no attempt at hiding their inspection of the hand and the stranger, only to not accept it.

"Who? I have never seen you around here before."

"Well it's been a while since I've been here." The stranger let his hand fall to his side, almost saddened. "Didn't have all that security out there." Ever the storyteller, he refused to let his smile fail. "Good thinking on that."

"Who are you here to see?" They towered over the stranger, arms crossed offering what could be a swift destruction should he decide he doesn't like the stranger's answer.

"Well... I'm here to see Momo." Asante raised their shoulders like they alone was a wall that could stop Anansi.

"You will call her Mrs. Nenge." Each syllable angrier than the last as they breathed down on him.

"Meant no disrespect!" Leather covered hands held up by his face to show is his honesty. "She was only a young thing when I saw her last." As the incredulous look Asante gave, he added, "I'm a lot older than I look." Compared to the near full baldness only graced with few remaining silver hairs that Asante wore with pride, the stranger's untamed rat nest of a hair and anxious smile made that very hard to believe. Yet still, they stepped aside from the doorway. Anansi gave a nod to them and entered.

Ever so reverent, the stranger in orange approached the three sitting in their armchairs like thrones in the open room. The first thing that Anansi noticed of them was just how time had changed them. Eyes yellowed like pages from age. Wrinkles from a lifetime of laughter forever etched on their faces. The stories of their lives on display like a museum of fine art.

"Oh my dears." In a dash, he was right in front of them. "My dears, you have grown so much."

"They don't really talk anymore." Asante explained. But the stranger wasn't listening. On his knees, Anansi reached for each of their faces but found vacant eyes staring back.

"My dears, I'm here. I came back." But maybe the guest had miscalculated. Maybe he came too late. There was no one to come back to anymore. "If I may," he struggled to keep the tears away as he turned to his hosts, "will you please leave?"

"No." They crossed their arms, a stronghold for Esam and Morowa. "Why would I leave my father to the whims of a stranger? No, whatever you do, you will do it while I am here." Anansi held back his tongue, he had already caused this family enough pain.

"Fine." And with that, he takes off his gloves. Asante coiled back in horror when the right glove came off to reveal a mismatched metal hand with buttons on the wrists. The stranger began a sequence with the buttons. They took a step forward after their initial shock subsided. "Please don't stop me." It was almost a plea. Yet he refused to look up from his work.

"What are you-"

"Please." Whether it be to them or to his mechanical wrist, Anansi sent a prayer as he opened his hand and hit one last button. A crackle came from the speaker as it came to life and from the palm, a voice was heard.

" _ So you want to hear my stories." _ Asante had never heard the voice and never expected that his mother and her siblings to turn their attention to the offering from the stranger on his knees.

" _ Yes ma'am. I wish to record them as well, if that is alright" _ The stranger's voice was also heard, sounding just the same as he did mere minutes ago.

" _ I will let you if you let my daughter-in-law do something with your hair." _ The old woman in the recording chuckled with delight. Life came back to the elders as they gathered closer to the speaker.

"Xoese... Xoese, that's Mother Bibi." The middle elder sitting in front of them reached for her sibling's wrinkled hand. "That's our grandmother." Her sibling stared at her in confusion. The old man opened his sleepy eyes as a faint hint of a smile crossed his face. A smile that Anansi remembered well. "She passed before you could have a chance to hear her stories." 

_ "Any particular one you wish to start with?" _

_ "Your favorite." _

"I haven't heard her tell a story since..." Eyes of an aged queen glanced at the mechanical hand. Followed up the brightly colored shirt, up to the smile and the young eyes staring back. "Anansi?" His favorite asked, eyes clear and focused on him. He felt no fear under her gaze. Nothing but love unburied.

"Yes. I'm here. I had a promise to keep to you, Momo." Her hands reached for his cheeks, brushing away the warm tears staining his face.

"Took you long enough, asswipe." Esam piped up as he took Anansi's hand in his.

"I thought Anansi was dead." The youngest piped up.

"And I thought you had more teeth." He joked back, causing the two oldest to laugh and poor Xoese to look away with a sour expression. "I only kid, my dear. I remember when they were first growing in. You used to cry all through the night."

"Remember when...  _ Mzee wako ni nani?"  _ The middle sibling muttered out some names before shouting " _ ... _ Mumbi! When Mumbi was teething?" Morowa asked but not wanting an actual answer. "That was you." The two older siblings laughed at the poor third sibling, left glowering at the wall in their rocking chair. The heart in the storyteller's chest betrayed him as it ached at the mention of their children. For in his eyes, they were still the children he had met so long ago. The careless grin of Esam, the curious eyes of Xoese, and his favorite calculated smirk, those were the loudest most define stories etched in the wrinkles.

"Momma Bibi, you can't be serious!" Shouted Asante from the doorway as they made their way closer.

"Shush you!" No lasting bitterment in her voice as she shooed them away. "I've known this man before you were a seed-"

"Momo, enough!" Esam gave his sister a gentle pat on her hand and a chuckle like two stones brushing against one another. "Not everyone needs to hear that." He turned to what Anansi assumed to be his oldest. How much had he missed, the storyteller began to wonder. His thoughts began to spiral out of control. Momo noticed and gave him a pinch on the cheek which he jokingly swatted away.

"You look like shit."

"I've never been more betrayed."

"I see why Mother Bibi was insistent on calling you a child." Giving a pat, she took in every little detail of her old friend. His shirt was old and frayed threadbare in some parts. His right hand a patchwork of metal. His left covered in scars and burns. His hair  _ still fucking atrocious. _ "You have young eyes for someone as old as you are. Young... Lost eyes."

"I'm not lost, I have a comp _ OW! _ " Xoese slapped him upside the head before he could finish.

"As I was saying," his favorite directed his attention back to her, but not before he stuck out his tongue at the third sibling, "I want to remind you that you'll always have a home here."

"It must be your old age, but I think you forgot something." The stench came back. The blood on his hands staining the metal underneath. Morowa watched those young eyes water once more as his grin struggled to live. She hadn't forgotten. She remembered the night well.

"Anansi, they forgave you." Esam spoke in a low voice.

"Wha-"

"There was nothing to forgive. We all knew you didn't mean to kill that agent. You wanted to protect this family." Morowa grabbed his uncovered right hand, held firm as she continued. "You wanted to protect  _ your _ family." Anansi couldn't bear to look at her as she continued. "You honestly gave us a couple of years of peace and quiet."

"Momo!" Her brother swatted at her shoulder.

"It's true!" She returned his smack. And the little elder one just rolled their eyes. Still the same children from so long ago. Still the same children he abandoned. "Oh old friend..." His breath was stolen by the tears from eighty years of pain he had carried everywhere he went. Every solar, every planet, every new home he had been to. Usam commanded something from his oldest, Anansi couldn't get himself to listen. Only could curl into his core with his knees baracting his head in defense. 

"Join us for dinner." Lifting his head, Anansi through his tears could have forgotten that he was eighty years too late. His favorite looked so much like her grandmother, demanding that he stayed for dinner once more. And who was he to say to her?

They ate together as they once had. Sat between Morowa and Xoese, Anansi began to meet all the children that came along. Each seemed to have hundreds of stories that they carried with them. Some embarrassing, some sweet. All illustrated the beautiful lives they had here.

And the story ends like it had so many years ago, with the misplaced orange drop never looking back as he walked away in the early hours of the morning. No warning. And with no goodbyes. Only this time he had the sense not to make any promises of returns. He left the closest thing he had to a family.

But this wasn't the family he loved no more. The youngest was in their early eighties. He saw glimpses of the family that took him in so those years ago. Rehema's eyebrows. Aufom's dimples. Mother Bibi's hands. They had died without ever seeing the storyteller again. And Neema and Asante, Esam's children, they were born and raised without a thought of him. The children he met long ago have lived full wonderful lives without him and the farm grew without him. His favorite said he would always have a home here, but Anansi was nothing more than a comet. Only able to catch mere seconds of the lives he passed by.

He decided at the bottom of his flask that was enough whiskey for tonight. It wasn't that it actually had an effect on him, rather that what else could he blame for his loneliness? Nights were always cold, no matter where he travelled. To say differently would only be an insult to the families that took him in. Nights were cold, and homes were warm. Nights were cold and lonely, and homes were warm and inviting. Those were just simple facts Anansi had learned from his own stories that weighed him down on his back. But he never let that stop him from walking away.

Warm and inviting isn't how he would describe the ship he saw just a little further up his path. Nearly black except for where old glass glittered in the moonlight. His feet were already running before he could register.

"Ikarus?" A smile came to him like rain to spring as he slowed down in front of the familiar ship. "Didn't expect to see you here." Dressed in blue, his friend looked illuminated in contrast with the deep violet sky. A smile as big as his own spread ear to pointy ear. "What brings you to Shamba?" Ikarus huffed a breath and two before answering back in a hoarse voice.

"Lead." Anansi nodded with a sharp inhale as he swallowed the pain in his heart.

"I haven't seen him around here."  _ And if I did... _ Some horrifying thoughts raced through the storyteller's head. But he bit his tongue, not wanting to yourself his friend. "Were you heading back to  _ Cass?" _

Ikarus nodded.

"Oh nice! So was I!" Anansi answered back before muttering, "I just have to find a crate headed that way." One of the few cons that came with his innovative traveling method.

Ikarus nodded his head back.

"Oh nice! You cleaned your baby from that rust!" A true statement upon closer inspection, the  _ Partridge _ looked nearly like an intended collage of bits of metal and pieces of glass.

Ikarus, ever patient, nodded his head back once more before in his strained voice he asked, "Ride?"

"Oh!" The storyteller, ironically speechless, couldn't help but let his smile grows bigger. "Are you- Are you offering me a ride?"

And finally his friend nodded. A nervous hand ran through the soft purple hair Anansi could lie and say he never dreamt of. But if the stories had told him anything, it was that liars get burnt in the ass thricefold. A part he knows to be him somewhere deep inside yelled to just take his hand and run. No more chasing after people. Just him and Ikarus freed from any prison they had built for themselves.

"Yeah! Yeah, thank you." Anansi snapped back into his body as he still watched the hand play with the gentle curls. "A ride would be great." A smile only rivaled by the closest star in brilliance spread across Ikarus's lips. Anansi tucked that dream of running away back in the folds of his mind as they made their way on board.

After leading his friend to what seemed to be the only bed on the ship and after the subsequence argument of who gets the bed being as they both refused to take it, Ikarus left to set the coordinates leaving Anansi to his nighttime prayers. In the wall by the bed, there was a little piece of yellow glass left for him to see the stars.

"Ancestors whose names were lost to time, I must ask you one question." The stars waited in the distance for him to speak his heart. A task he never seemed to struggle with now troublesome enough for his eyes to sting. "Don't I deserve to be happy?" Gaze locked on the stars, scared to lose focus. A conversation he meant to have eighty years ago, Anansi wasn't going to let the threat of tears stop him. "Don't I deserve to have a happy life? To be able to lay down my burdens, to take off my shoes, and come home to someone?" He rubbed the sore on his shoulder, where skin and bone became metal and wires. "Don't I deserve a family?"

The stars remained unmoved by his question.

"I get that I was either blessed or cursed with something that gives me the ability to do what others cannot, but what good does any of it mean if I don't create my own stories to share with my own family?"

The stars only gazed back bored.

"I give you what you want, the stories remembered. But what good does it do for any of us if-" The words caught inside his throat. His heart sank deep into the recesses of his chest. An unwilling prisoner shaking the bars. "No. You don't care. You just want this done." His determined will shattered as tears fell down his face in rivers. "This was never meant to be a one person operation. All the stories talk about family, about friends, why the hell do you think I can do this alone?" But the stars did not care.

"Please, none of this silent bullshit!" Hoarse and scratchy, yet still he screamed his heart out. "Tell me! Tell me why!"

Still the stars did not care...

The stars never cared, haven't they...

"Fuck you."

He got to his feet and he let his heart lead the way.

  
  


"Iky Iky?" He called out, peering into the main control room of  _ the Partridge _ . And there he was, a slow toothy smile that grew with every step he took closer. Anansi was almost next to him when a shooting pain coursed through his leg and up his spine. He limped forward, never losing his brave smile. Ikarus did as he closed the distance, his hands finding easy purchase on his arm and back. Stars, he was so close to him. Nothing could explain with mere words how much Anansi just wanted to curl into his arms. "Sorry the wires-"

His friend only shook his head.

"Right... No apologies."

He nodded.

"Help me to the cabin?" The words he once feared tasted like vinegar on his lips, disgusted by his own limitations. But was that not why he l-  _ not yet _ , he told himself.

Ikarus nodded once more and the two made their careful slow trek back down the winding hallways of mosaics of metal and glass. Each silent except for their hearts, at least how Anansi hoped. Hoped he wasn't the only one with his heart heavy and loud in his ear. How he hoped that the butterflies in his stomach plagued his friend as well, so that they both might fly off and forget about everything else. No wars. No doctors that obviously did not follow the ancient Hippocratic oath. No more chasing. Just them and their butterflies. For as long as they lived.

Ikarus guided him onto the bed, but as he made an attempt to stand, Anansi grabbed the back of his shirt. "If you don't mind, I need to tell you something."

His friend's smile started to slip as he sat beside him on the bed. It was at that moment Anansi's courage shattered.  _ This is why we tell you hide, _ a whisper of old recordings hissed in the back of his mind,  _ you're only going to hurt him. _

" _ Kimya. _ " Like a viper chewing at its own cheek, the wires danced with pulses on electricity when he whispered back. Blinding pain rolled up his spine. But still he held on.

_ How will you be any good to him,  _ they spoke as one and many,  _ how will he be any good to us? _ He opened his eyes to see only Ikarus, a gentle grin and understanding eyes were all that were staring back. 

" _ Hii ni yangu. _ " Anansi cleared his throat, rubbing the joint where skin met metal inside his worn out pants. "There's something you should know about me." His heart was selfish, refusing to let the words come out. Soft whispers from all sides of him, demanding he stop this fool's errand. "I'm losing my memories." But if this was his only shot at a family, it was worth the pain. "And one day, I will have none left. I will just be an empty husk unable to respond, to eat, to move because I won't remember how to." That awful sting came back as tears flooded his vision. Still he forced the words to come, no matter how they tasted of electricity on his tongue. "All in all, I'm... dying."  _ And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my time with you, _ is what he thought.

But he couldn't utter another word before Ikarus left him in the dark, empty room with only the stars unmoved.

**Author's Note:**

> Ikarus belongs to Blue_Bird16


End file.
